Nolan and Sky
by coppywolf
Summary: 'Nolan and Sky' takes place about a year after the events of Life is Strange. It follows two characters with a similar friendship to that of Chloe and Max's and features multiple characters from Arcadia Bay.


Chapter 1

My car made a loud screech as it came to a stop in front of the tall, glass building. The big screen on the skyscraper played an advertisement for some disaster relief charity. No surprise. After the freak tornado that destroyed that town in Oregon, everyone is scared of something like it happening again. Might as well cash in on the fear. Its of no interest to me, anyway. Today is the National Photography Competition. Hundreds of people across the country come to Los Angeles in the hopes of getting noticed by some big wig art critic. Not me though. I was just there to meet my hero. As were many other people, given the massive line stretching around the base of the building from the entrance.

"Dude, there's like a thousand people in that line! How the hell are we ever gonna get in?" asked the girl sitting in the passenger seat of my old, beat up sedan. Sky. My best friend. Her brown bangs swayed across her face as the wind blew through the open window on her right. I heard the sound of the car door click as she started to to exit.

"Easy peasy," I said, following her lead. "Lindsey said that we just have to show our ID's to the guy at the front of the line..."

I pointed to the man standing in front of the string of people. He was large. Very, very large. He had some particularly intimidating scars on his face, as well as some tattoos painted all over his body. He was smiling, but it just made him look even scarier. Like an insane criminal.

 _God, I need to stop judging people so much. I thought the same thing about Sky and now shes my best friend._

We walked up the huge man whilst holding our Ids. Sky was ogling his tattoos as we approached. She wasn't even trying to be discreet. At one point she actually reached her hand out to touch his arm. I pulled her away and linked arms with her.

"Hi. We're friends of the owners. We have these Ids. I dunno what they mean, but we were told to show them to you."

The man took the Plastic cards from us and swiped them through a slit next to the door of the building. He then broke the cards in half and gave us another pair of bigger, whiter ones with lanyards attached to them.

"Go ahead." The man said in a deep, scratchy voice. "Your personal ID badges. You'll get name tags inside, these things are only good to stop you from getting arrested for trespassing. Talk to the guy at the desk. Hes wearing a ridiculous white suit, you cant miss him. Have a nice day."

The man smiled as he said goodbye. I could tell he was being genuine, and not trying to be weird or creepy.

 _Knew it. Of course he's a nice guy, we're at an art exhibit. People here are either nice or pretending to be nice._

"Pretty intimidating guy to be put on line patrol duty," She chuckled as we started to walk away, "Look at his tats! Are those gang symbols...?"

"Are you trying to get us kicked out before we even get inside?" I asked, jokingly. "Because if you are, we can just go now. I don't really want to be here if you don't."

She laughed, probably harder than socially acceptable, as a whole group of people started looking at us strangely. "Ohhhh Nolan." She sighed, letting her laughter taper off. "How in the Hell could I ever miss you getting to meet the famous Max Caulfield. I still remember that time we saw that one guy... what was his name? David Dennan? Oh man, the squeal that came out of your mouth-"

"Tennant," I corrected, "and I wouldn't really call it a 'squeal' per-say..."

"Oh really?" she asked, "Then please, what would you call this..." She proceeded to make a series of noises that sounded an awful lot like squeals, followed by orgasmic breaths. "Oh Doctor please, I'd _LOOOVE_ to be your companion. Just tell me where to-"The group around us glanced towards our direction with annoyed looks. Again.

"Ooookay Sky," I cut her off, "Lets just get to the front desk before we get thrown in front of a car by angry artists."

Sky pushed past me and through the glass, revolving doors.

'Hooooly shit," She gasped.

Holy shit was right. The roof of the lobby must have been 30 feet high, with a giant, round chandelier hanging down to just above the top of the winding stairs in center of the room. The stairs circled around themselves, leaving a column of nothing in the center of the spiral. The whole room was glowing, with everything from the walls to the desks to the chairs being either white or chrome colored. It was angelic.

"What were you expecting?" I asked. "What did you think the admission fee was for? Exclusive parking?"

She scoffed and walked towards the front desk, sitting to the side of the spiral staircase. A man in a totally white suit was sitting in front of a computer monitor, seemingly typing something. He appeared aggravated, scrunching his face up after he tapped a few keys. He noticed us and immediately pressed a combination of keys, presumably to close the program. Not work approved, I guess.

"Hello. Welcome the National Photography Competition. If you'd like a meeting with one of our honored guests, you can wait in the line on the left. Competitors can see their name tags on the desk at the far side of the room."

Sky grabbed the plastic ID hanging from her neck and pushed in front of her, toward the man at the desk.

"We're on the list" she said, clearly and slowly.

The man looked at her confused, and then rolled his eyes.

"Ignore her," I said quickly, "I was told that we can just show you our IDs and we can go into the Guest area."

The man eyed the ID's suspiciously. Oddly suspiciously. His face morphed into a frown, and almost immediately back into a smile again. He handed the ID's back

"Friends of Ms. Price I see. I should have guessed-"

Chloe was visibly offended and interrupted, "What the Hell is that supposed to mean, Mr. 'I forgot to close the porn on my computer before the guests walked in'?"

The man suddenly became a lot less angel-like when his bright white face turned a dark shade of red.

The man looked down at his desk. "I apologize. Mr-"

"Please," I cut him off, "Call me Nolan"

"Mr. Nolan." He continued, "Ms. Caulfield is in the next room. I hear shes been anxious to meet you."

Sky must have noticed my face turn flush, as she turned and smiled. "Chloe tells me Max is pretty chill." She said, "You don't have anything to worry about. She's gonna love your shots. And even if she doesn't, who cares? Someone else will. Isn't that the whole point of art, anyway?"

"Did you become a motivational speaker on the way here or something?" I asked, smiling.

"It depends on whether or not my speech motivated you."

"Yes, It did." I said.

"Really?" She asked, laughing. "Wow. Guess I should change my career aspects. Hey porn guy, you know where a girl can get a degree in 'motivational speaking'?"

'porn guy' did not answer the question. The man typed a few things on his keyboard before motioning us toward the name tags on the desk across the room. We both picked up our stickers and placed them on our chests. First names only. Is that normal?

"Ms. Caulfield and her company are waiting for you up the stairs. Just..." He seemingly wanted to whisper something to me, but changed his mind after looking at Sky. "Never mind. Go on up. Enjoy your stay."

Sky opened her mouth to say something. I pushed her ahead of me before any sound came could come out.

"Man, I bet this is what Heaven looks like." Sky said about halfway up the stairs. "Except with a lot more hot girls. And a lot less douchebags watching porn."

I watched her as she climbed up the stairs. Sky was a really pretty girl. There was no denying that. Just not my type, I guess. I was never into the whole tattooed punk rocker thing. I've always been attracted to those kind of people though. Like, on a friendship level. We just have the same interests. I've never really _tried_ dating someone like that though. Maybe that's why I'm still single...

"Hey," Sky said, interrupting my thoughts, "We have places to be. People to meet. And my ass isn't so great as to warrant life contemplation."

That was when I noticed I was staring at her butt. I mean, I wasn't _actually_ staring at her butt, I was just looking in that direction and it looked like I was. That's me. The awkward guy who randomly stares at people's asses for no reason. Reason I have so few friends number 867.

"Okay, I wasn't staring at your ass, thank you very much. And it looks like attempting English class has actually helped your vocabulary."

"Oh you were totally staring. You were practically drooling, buddy boy. Hey, I don't blame you. Its pretty damn fine, if I say so myself. And Ms. Hoppson isn't doing shit for my vocabulary. That's a side effect of spending so much time with you."

"You're welcome." I said.

"I didn't say it was a good thing. No one knows what I'm even saying half the time anymore. God, why do you have to be such a good influence? Its disgusting."

"Hey we'll go get some tattoos after this to make you feel all bad again, okay?"

"Yeah, I wish." she said. "Last time I took you to get a tattoo, you whined for months."

"I still haven't forgiven you for that. It hurt like Hell."

"I told you not to get a tattoo on your chest, you idiot." she laughed.

"Next time, ill get a pair of lips on my butt. So you can kiss my ass."

"Whoa-ho-ho." she chuckled. "What a burn. Seriously, how many fucking stairs are there? Its like I'm walking up a lighthouse.

She was starting to breathe heavily. I was too. We'd been walking up these stairs for a while. Probably for a lot less time then we thought though. Both of us were pretty nervous. I was going to meet Max fucking Caulfield. Her photos, man. Beautiful. Shes my hero. Her work is what inspired me to make art. More importantly, to show it to people. Sky on the other hand, she was gonna see Chloe Price again. She says they're 'old friends' but the way she talked about her made their relationship seem a bit deeper than that. Well, maybe not _deeper_ but certainly more... physical.

When we'd finally made it to the top, there were three men dressed in completely white suits admiring a picture on the wall. One of Max Caulfield's.

"Hey, is that one of your crush's pictures on the wall over there?" Sky asked.

"Shut up," I said.

We walked over to get a closer look at it. It was different than anything I'd seen of hers before. It wasnt a photo either. It was a painting. It was scary. Chaotic. A tornado tearing apart a town by a bay. There were people in the town, fleeing from the storm in vain. Cars were flying in the air towards the cyclone, buildings being ripped from the ground, and people lying on the ground, dead in the streets. Above it all, sitting on a cliff, was a lighthouse. The light was bright and shining away from the storm, into the town below, highlighting their destruction. Near the lighthouse were two people, standing hand in hand, watching the storm tear apart the bay. The message was clear. Those people were not saviors. They were not just bystanders either. They were the cause... and they were watching their events unfold.

I thought to myself, _How can people cause a storm? The storm must be some sort of symbol. Murder, perhaps? Two lovers who killed someone and are facing the repercussions?_

I heard the people around me discussing the image. One man made a suggestion that people on the cliff did cause the storm. That they committed an evil, and were left alive, saved, and as punishment, were forced to watch their friends and families killed. Another man said that the people on the hill _were_ the storm. That they destroyed the town and the tornado was some sort of punishment for _them._ Either way, it was undeniably dark. And certainly not a Max Caulfield image.

"Wow." Sky said, breathlessly. "I've never seen something so... wow."

"I know." I said.

We stood and looked at the image for a while in silence. It brought tears to my eyes. I don't know why, it was just an incredibly powerful image. I wondered who could have possibly made a painting like this. It was phenomenal. Certainly deserving of a place in the contest. I couldn't help but think it wasn't even in the contest. It just seemed out of place. Not that the other works I had seen weren't good, but this painting, 'Sacrifice' as its titled, was miles ahead of everything else. It was certainly created by a gifted artist. I wondered if I'd get to meet them at the competition.

 _A conversation with someone this talented ought to rub some excess talent onto me. A Talent donation, if you will. Give some of your excess to us less fortunate people._

I didn't wonder long, as a girl with dark blue hair, dressed in out of place, stereotypical punk rocker clothes, was walking towards us, smiling and waving to Sky. She was holding hands with a girl I couldn't quite make out the face of, as she was looking down at the floor, talking on the phone. I realized who it was a soon as she turned her head in my direction. Max Caulfield. She was wearing a bright white dress that could have easily been mistaken as a wedding gown. Obviously this wasn't a wedding event, so of course I knew better.

She hung up just before she reached us. She had a slight frown on her face, as if the call was mildly unpleasant. It faded away as the blue-haired girl looked at her, smiled, and rested her head on Max's shoulder for a second.

"Sky!" The blue-haired girl yelled happily as they hugged. "Its been soooo long"

"Chloe! You died your hair again? What happened to the black?" Sky asked.

"Black is boring. Plus, it made me look more goth-y than I wanted to."

Sky laughed as she introduced us. "Chloe this is my friend Nolan. Nolan, this is Chloe."

"Hi," I said awkwardly. As usual. I reached my hand out for a handshake.

"Hes a shy one, isn't he?" Chloe said. She reached a fist out over my hand. "Handshakes are boring."

I closed my hand into a fist and bumped hers. She looked surprised and laughed as she wrapped her arms around me in a hug.

"Its nice to meet you, Nolan. This is Max, but from what I hear, you already know that."

I looked at Sky accusingly. She shrugged and laughed.

"Hi Nolan," Max said reaching out a hand to shake. "I've seen some of your shots. They're pretty cool."

I terrifyingly realized how sweaty my hands were from walking up the stairs and meeting Max Caulfield. I couldn't decide whether to deny her handshake with a fist bump, or just attempt to quickly wipe my hand on my jeans and shake anyway. I went for the fist bump.

Chloe looked at my hand turn into a fist and laughed loudly.

"Either I'm rubbing off on him already," Chloe started, "or his hands are sweaty and he doesn't want to be embarrassed."

I looked at the ground embarrassed as Max bumped my fist and hugged Sky.

"Hey," Max said, "Those stairs are really tiring. I'm not surprised hes sweating"

"Oh I'm not surprised he's sweating either. But it doesn't have anything to do with the stairs. Be careful bucko, I don't wanna get all hella territorial, but I totally will if I need to."

I noticed Max's face turn about as red as I felt mine were. I turned toward the picture on the wall in an attempt to shrug off the embarrassment.

"So, do either of you know who made this painting?" I asked.

"That's mine." Chloe said. "I made it just after..." She paused for a long time. "Just after Arcadia Bay got destroyed by that storm. I never thought I was that great of an artist, but I just needed to make something."

"Oh." I said. "Did you have family there or...?"

"Yes. I lived there." she said quickly. "But I was out of town. I was at a concert with Max in Portland."

Max looked down as she said that. They were obviously hiding something, but I didn't press. It was none of my business.

"I'm sorry," I said. "that must have been terrible."

"Yeah," she said "Life is pretty shitty that way. But at least I still have my SuperMax. Sky tells me shes your hero. Well, Shes mine too..."

Chloe looked at Max and smiled. She smiled back and they looked back towards Sky and I again.

"Anyway," Chloe said, ending the silence, "I have to piss. Sky, you mind walking with me? We can catch up on the way there."

I looked at Sky pleadingly, as if to say, _Please. Don't leave me alone. I'm gonna fuck it up and say something stupid._ She shrugged, winked at me and mouthed "good luck" as she walked away with Chloe.

We walked away from the painting and past the stairs. Then towards a large, white door that said 'Offices' on it.

"So..." Max said, breaking the silence that was swirling for what seemed like an eternity. "Your hero, huh?"

"Yeaaaaaah. Sky doesn't quite know when to keep her mouth shut, I guess." I said.

"Hey, its cool. I'm flattered, truly. What did I do to earn 'hero status' in your mind anyway?"

"Your photos..." I said, trying not to sound like a dweeb. "They're inspiring. You know how to capture the essence of something in a singular moment. It actually amazing. You managed to make me admire art, not just look at it. I always loved taking pictures, but I never really thought about them as art. At least, not until I saw your stuff. Everyday things, feelings, emotions made beautiful as they're captured with the click of a button and the flash of a camera."

She laughed a little and smiled. "You're mistaken. I don't make anything beautiful, I capture the beauty that it already has. As artists, we don't make emotion. We don't create feelings. We just experience them and pass them on. Photography is the most pure form of that. We capture something in an imperfect moment. How it made us feel is then encapsulated in pixels and printed onto a picture which we show to others to let them feel the same emotions. There's no middle man like in drawings or paintings. No mind to distort the image."

"Wow..." I said after a long pause. "Now I feel really dumb."

"Dont," she said, making a weird expression I couldn't quite explain. Something between admiration and disgust. "Its not even my line."

"Oh?" I said, questioningly.

"An old teacher of mine said it. He turned out to be a real piece of shit. He did know photography though. A weird, fucked up, twisted kind of photography."

"Was he...?" "Yeah. He was."

 _Shit._ I thought. _Another person affected by that scumbag. I cant believe..._

"So," She said, breaking my thoughts apart. "You have some photos to show me or what?"

I was so engrossed in my thoughts that I hadn't noticed that we had reached the door already. She pushed open the White "Offices" door and stepped inside. I followed her lead.

This room was a lot less blindingly white than the previous one. The walls and floors were a tiled gray matte color. The word "Offices" didn't really seem appropriate as there were no offices or people anywhere to be seen. It was just a huge open empty room with various art lining the walls. Then I realized why it the room was called "Offices". The art hanging on the walls was all of ordinary office scenes. Paper clips, staplers, computer monitors, arguing coworkers. They were good shots. They were _very_ good shots.

"Is there a room for every exhibit?" I asked, trying not to sound surprised at the massive size of the room and the quality of the photographs.

"Yep." She said, incredibly nonchalantly. "Offices, Nature, Urban, and Special. The rest are fitted into mini-categories in one other exhibit."

"Yeah. Of course." I mumbled, not even trying to hide my gaping mouth.

"No." she said, starting to laugh.

"What?" I asked, confused.

"No, you don't get used to it. Seeing your art all over the place. Seeing your art placed next to people who obviously have more talent than you."

She walked a few feet forward, toward a very large photograph hanging in between dozens of others. It was a picture of a man sitting at a cubicle. The picture was taken from the behind, slightly above the man's head. He was hunched over with one of his hands reaching into a drawer on his right, while the other was writing a letter. There was a drop on the paper, all the way at the bottom of the page. There was a small window to his left, where there was a storm raging outside. The cubicle was very neat despite the chaos going on outside. A stapler sat slightly to the left of the paper and a cup full of various office supplies was in the top right corner of the desk. That was all. Once pencil in the man's hand, a paper, a stapler, and a cup of office things. No photos of loved ones, no sports themed paper weights or stickers plastered on the desk's side. No personality.

"I take it this is the winner?" I said with a tinge of jealousy.

She laughed. "No. This is Victoria Chase's photo. We run this exhibit together. The others on the wall are the contestants. Whichever wins will replace Victoria's. She's incredibly talented, isn't she?"

"That's an understatement." I said. "This is beautifully tragic. He's... facing death. Writing a letter to himself because he has no one to love. No one who loves him. A suicide note. His other hand is reaching into his drawer for a gun. He knows he isn't going to live through that storm and he doesn't want to."

Max smiled as she heard my explanation. "That's the usual interpretation, yes."

"And... The unusual interpretation?" I asked, curiously.

"This is his enlightenment. The Storm, I mean. He realized that he does have people who love him. That's who he's writing his letter to. He's attempting to make amends. He's hoping they make it out alive, even though he may not. He's hoping they read the letter and forgive him for his mistakes. As for the drawer-"

"A photograph..." I interrupted. "Of his loved ones. He's wants to be close to them in his possible final moments. He wants them to give him hope."

"Yep. Still beautifully tragic, but with a different message."

"Hope." I said. "Is there a correct interpretation? I mean, you know the artist..."

"There's never a wrong interpretation, Nolan."

"What about the title? What is it called? It might give some idea to the true meaning of the piece."

"Oh it does. It's just as beautifully tragic as the piece itself. And can be interpreted in just as many ways."

"Well?" I asked impatiently. "What is it?"

She turned to me and spoke after a long pause...

"Father"

END of Chapter 1


End file.
